Do you feel free yet?

I wasn't in the door for more than a couple of seconds last night when he asked that question and before I could even recognise the words he had me by my hair, pulling my head back, and was biting my face and neck while I gasped and moaned. He threw me on the couch and clamped one hand over my mouth while he fucked me, and I did feel free, paradoxically because I most certainly was not.

After some down time, and some not-so-down time, he asked me how roughly I wanted to be treated. I said "very roughly", and I meant it. Sista was online and he had me tell her what I had asked for. She asked me "why?" and I was surprised. It hadn't even occurred to me that anyone would wonder why - to me, the need was completely self-explanatory. I started to type "Because I like it" and then thought, I can do better than that. So I added "...and I want to test how much I can enjoy." I think its a hallmark of masochists that we want to test and compete with ourselves (which is probably the subject of another post), and part of my desire came from this, combined with the simple pleasure of pushing the limits (which is probably yet another post).

A warning for the feint-hearted:

some of the next two paragraphs may be disturbing to some people...

It was intense, and my recollection is all hazy and disordered. Master grabbed my hair and dragged me quickly to the bedroom, me trying to crawl frantically along the floor to keep up. He threw me on the bed and slapped my face hard, repeatedly. He held his hand over my mouth and nose. He hit and grabbed at my tits, twisting the nipples so hard I screamed until he told me to shut up. He took some rope and tied my hands behind my back firmly. He slapped my face more, hard, and ordered me to keep my head up so he could slap me some more. I felt liquid trickle from my nose and I thought it was because I was crying, until a later point when he said "You're bleeding, baby." He said it with warmth, but without remorse, so that I knew from his tone, even before he said so, that it didn't matter if I bled - he would continue anyway. And I felt sincere gratitude for that.

He placed a cover (was it a pillow case?) over my head and clamped a hand over my mouth as he struck my body, open-handed and with closed fists, especially my breasts. As he fucked me he asked me what else I wanted and I felt shocked at the answer that came to mind: I want you to kill me, Sir. I couldn't say it - it was the only point during the entire experience that I felt fear. Was I afraid that if I said it, then he would do it? Maybe, I'm not sure... Was I afraid that I meant it? Yes, definitely.

As I said, I didn't feel afraid of him the entire time (my one moment of fear, was fear of myself). I trusted completely that he was in control. Why, then, did I cry? It was genuinely a pleasurable experience, and yet that was still my natural reaction to being treated this way. It felt like a release - exorcising demons of some kind. I won't analyse it too much - I'm not sure I want to see what I'll find.

What I loved the most was his utter lack of remorse. Another paradox: this is what makes me feel safe. He shows no anxiety about hurting me, and this gives me faith that he knows what he is doing. Master cares for my wellbeing and checks that I'm ok, but he does it calmly and with total confidence, so that I never doubt that he is in control. And all this gives me one other important kind of safety: acceptance. He doesn't flinch from the extreme, he doesn't show an ounce of hesitation no matter how close to the edge we go, and this makes me feel that I am ok. No matter how far I want to go, no matter how dark and violent my desire, it will not make him uncomfortable or afraid. With him, I am never judged. And that is most certainly freedom.

Here's a link to an article I read a while back, and am reminded of now, on psychological reactance to helplessness in subs/slaves